


Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me

by the_wanlorn



Category: A-Team (2010)
Genre: Character of Color, M/M, communication issues, people thinking the worst about you, self-indulgent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-03
Updated: 2010-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 12:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/137267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wanlorn/pseuds/the_wanlorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Murdock is jumpy, BA is an idiot, Face is unhelpful, Hannibal is a troll, and there's an inevitable happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch-a Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Shadowkitty for helping me hash out most of this, and reminding me that sometimes the answer to an either/or question is "yes." Thanks to ishie for doing a wonderful beta job.

If Murdock hadn't had such a shocked look on his face when he fell off the chair, it would have been funny.

"Hey man, what's wrong with you?" B.A. asked, reaching down to help him up.

"The chairs are holding a strike," Murdock said, letting B.A. haul him to his feet, and then stepping away and shoving his hands in his pockets. "They won't let anyone sit in them until their union rep irons out a better contract. You better not try sitting down, Bosco, they pack a mean punch."

"I'll take my chances, fool." B.A. hooked a chair out with his foot and sat down next to Murdock, to wait for Hannibal and Face to show up. He was pretty certain that jerking away hard enough to tumble to the floor when he put a hand on Murdock's back as he passed wasn't the _chair's_ fault.

He wouldn't have thought anything of it -- Murdock was a twitchy fucker, sometimes -- except it happened again when they took a break from going over what they knew about the client (and what they were going to _do_ about the client) hours later. He got up to get a drink, and put a hand on Murdock's shoulder to get his attention to ask if he wanted anything while he was up. Instead of saying no, or looking at him like he'd picked up a couple extra heads along the way, Murdock flinched away with his whole body.

It was weird enough that B.A. forgot what he was going to ask entirely, and when Murdock asked what he wanted, he shook his head and said, "Nothing."

Two days later, they were in San Francisco. He, Murdock, and Face were walking down the street, with Murdock jabbering at Face beside him and not paying attention to where he was going. So when he was about to walk into a pothole, B.A. grabbed his arm to direct him around. Murdock jumped visibly, and jerked his arm away as he turned to glare at B.A.

Which, what the fuck. Murdock spent the last _four hours_ hanging off his arm while they scouted the area (to "blend in" he'd claimed, but B.A. wasn't buying it), but now B.A. wasn't allowed to touch him? That was bullshit.

"Hey, Murdock," Face said, gripping Murdock's shoulder when he turned back toward him. "You okay, buddy?"

That pissed him off more, maybe more than Murdock jerking away from him in the first place. There were days when he wanted to rewind to before he wanted Murdock to _want_ him grabbing his shoulder, or touching his arm. Or at least rewind a few days, to when he was still pretending this was something he could ignore, that would fade away quickly. The little twinge of hurt every time Murdock twitched away from him, and what he was pretty sure was growing into jealousy -- of _Face_ of all people -- said different.

Life was a lot easier back when the only time he got near Murdock on his own was when he was threatening to hurt him for whatever he'd just done.

"I'm more than OK, I'm at _least_ Colorado. Maybe Maine."

Murdock's response faded to background noise as B.A.'s thought process came to a screeching halt, and he turned over the sort of awful implications of that last thought. He mostly only grabbed Murdock to threaten him. Now Murdock flinched whenever he touched him.

He was a horrible person.

###

The next day, B.A. and Murdock spent the morning building a squat robot out of spare parts. The plan was to perch a hat on top, and send it rolling behind a short wall on cue, to draw fire. It wasn't going to work unless Face found a motor quieter than the lawnmower motor currently sitting in the corner of the shop.

Murdock was acting like a normal person -- or, as normal as he ever was -- for most of the morning. The worst it got was when he insisted they needed to find a mini gumball machine.

"C'mon, Bosco, he needs a head," he wheedled. "You can't just staple a hat on the top, that won't look right."

B.A. figured he'd put up enough of a show of resistence, and said, "Fine, but only if you can find one by the time I'm done with this." He didn't look up from where he was concentrating on soldering wires in the right places; he didn't want Murdock to see the grin that was tugging at the corners of his mouth. As much as he needed to undo the crap he'd done, he had a reputation to uphold.

"I saw one in the store down the street," Murdock said, already half out the door. "And some red spray paint for the rest of him."

He'd wait until he came back to shoot down that idea. If there was going to be any spraypainting, it was going to be a color that wouldn't stand out.

An hour later, Murdock had reached the limit of his ability to work on one thing -- even one thing that was a robot -- for a continuous chunk of time. B.A. couldn't really blame him; even he was starting to need a break.

When Murdock started using the tools and scraps laying around to act out some crazy musical involving pirates and a bunch of maids in school, B.A. didn't say anything. He even kind of enjoyed it for the first ten minutes -- there was a fight between the pirates and a bunch of cops, and a failed execution, or maybe a successful one, he wasn't quite sure -- because it was something to listen to.

"Knock that off," he said after twenty minutes, when it had stopped being sort of interesting and a little... _cute_. "And gimme the hammer."

"You can't have the Major General," Murdock said, clutching the hammer to his chest. "He still hasn't found Nanki-Poo."

"Too bad," he said, getting up and plucking the hammer out of Murdock's hands.

But that wasn't the end of it, because Murdock just went and dug out another hammer, and started singing again. B.A. lasted another ten minutes before snapping.

"If you don't stop that I'm gonna-" he broke off and took a breath, forcing himself to calm down and not go after Murdock. After a moment of Murdock looking at him expectantly, he had himself under control, and said, "Never mind."

Murdock stared at him, his forehead crinkled with confusion. But he put down the tools and went back to stripping the ancient toaster for parts, like he was supposed to be doing. After a moment, he asked, "You feeling okay, B.A.?"

There was no good way to say "I'm trying to stop being such an asshole that you flinch whenever I touch you," as far as B.A. knew, so instead he said, gruffly, "I'll be fine if you stop that singing, fool."

Murdock stared at him for another moment, before turning back to the toaster without saying anything else. B.A. wanted to tell him that he just needed _quiet_ for a little bit, but couldn't figure out how to say it without it being weird.

The rest of the morning, he let Murdock do whatever he wanted, without complaining. Not even when it started to seem like he was purposefully trying to get a rise out of him.

###

B.A. had no idea what to do. Whenever he didn't have something to concentrate on, he ended up thinking about every time Murdock flinched away from him. By the end of the day, it reached the point where his gut would turn over at least once an hour, when he had a moment to try to figure out what to _do_ , or why it had taken him so long to notice, or how he could have done that to the person who was probably-

Hell, at this point, Murdock might be his friend -- and that was questionable -- but he sure wasn't Murdock's friend. If he had been Murdock's friend, he would have noticed at some point that all the shit he did and threats he made weren't just rolling off his back. That it wasn't actually all in good, if incredibly annoyed, fun.

In the past, his response to a problem he couldn't handle by himself was to go to Hannibal. Hannibal didn't know the answer to _everything_ , but he usually had a good idea of where to start. It had never been a problem with another member of the team before, but the general principle still held. So when they were about to split up for the night, he hung back while Murdock and Face left.

"What's on your mind, B.A.?" Hannibal asked, looking up from the map spread across the table.

It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and to convince himself that even though Hannibal was going to give him that disappointed look he saved for when one of them really fucked up, he needed to ask. There wasn't much that was worse than Hannibal being disappointed in him, except maybe Murdock being scared of him. When he finally knew what he was going to say, he sat down across from Hannibal. "If," he started quietly, "if you wanted to stop treating someone real bad, because you realized that person was fucking scared of you and that's not what you meant to happen, where would you start?"

He glanced up at Hannibal, who didn't look disappointed, just... _amused_ , which couldn't be right. When B.A. looked up again, Hannibal's face was blank, which he thought just might be worse than disappointment.

"So this person," Hannibal started, "is afraid of me."

B.A. licked his lips and swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Hearing it come from someone else made it real, in a way it hadn't been before. "Yeah."

"Because of how I treat him." Hannibal's lips twitched a little.

"Yeah," B.A. forced out.

"And I want him to stop being afraid of me."

He nodded. His chest felt tight in a way it hadn't in years, maybe even since the last time they were on their way to prison. He wanted Hannibal to say something that would make it okay, like there was anything that _could_ make it okay.

"Well." Hannibal leaned back in his chair, picking up one of the toy cars that was on the table and spinning it in his fingers. "I would start by being nice to him, and see where that got me."

"Being nice," B.A. said, frowning a little, because that couldn't be all. That didn't seem like enough.

"As nice as I knew how to be," Hannibal said, and smiled a little.

B.A. stared at him. He appreciated Hannibal's attempt to be reassuring, and appreciated even more that the worst he had been was neutral. He wasn't sure he _believed_ him, but he was right. It was a start.

"Thanks, Hannibal," he said as he got up. He could do nice. He could be patient, and give it time, and see if just _being nice_ was enough.

"Any time, kid," Hannibal said.

Right before the door clicked shut behind him, he thought he heard Hannibal chuckling.

###

When B.A. dropped a paper bag in front of Murdock in the morning, he grabbed it and stuck his nose in to inhale deeply.

"For me?" he asked, when he looked over at B.A.

"Yeah." He ran a hand over his mohawk and looked away when Murdock grinned like it was the best breakfast he ever got. Which he knew wasn't true, because he'd had breakfasts Murdock made before, and a pumpkin muffin from the bakery down the road didn't come close to any of them.

"You even got me cream cheese!" he said, digging in the bag. When he looked up again, his grin was, if at all possible, even bigger.

"Yeah, well." B.A. stopped there, because yeah, well, _what_? Yeah, well, I'm trying to buy your affection with food, because that worked on me? Yeah, well, I wanted to start the day with doing something nice for you?

"You're the best friend _ever_ ," Murdock said.

"It's just a muffin," B.A. muttered, because it was. And because if he was the best friend Murdock had, then that was the saddest thing he'd ever heard.

"It's _my_ muffin," Murdock said happily, like that meant something.

Later in the morning, they were wiring a warehouse for the "scare them shitless" part of the plan. B.A. was kneeling on the floor, running gray electric tape along the join between the floor and the wall to hide the wires they had laid. If they were lucky, it would be dim enough that the tape would blend into the concrete.

Murdock was up in the rafters, inching his way backward along one of the beams and laying wire, with the occasional speaker, down in front of him. He was humming while he did so, loud enough for B.A. to hear him.

"Sounds good," B.A. called up to him. The humming broke off abruptly, and when he looked up, Murdock was staring down at him. He turned back to taping the wire down like he hadn't said anything, and after a moment, Murdock started humming again.

By the time he got back to the vent they were running the wire through, Murdock was almost back to the ladder. Of course, instead of sitting on the beam, he was dangling upside down, his legs wrapped around it.

"I'm a bird, I'm a plane, I'm superbat!" he crowed when he saw B.A. looking up at him.

"If you fall and crack your damn fool head open, I ain't calling 911," he warned. Which, he supposed, didn't actually fall under the category of "nice," but didn't _not_ fall under it, because he was pretty sure Murdock wasn't going to fall.

"Why, Bosco, I didn't know you cared," Murdock said, holding a hand to his heart.

B.A. turned back to the wire, taping the last couple inches down and snaking it through the vent. "Course I do," he grumbled.

There was a yelp above him, and when he looked back up, Murdock was pulling himself back onto the beam, his face red from being upside down for so long. He pushed his way backward until he reached the ladder and then scrambled down, staring at B.A. the entire way down.

By the end of the day, B.A. had let Murdock steal half his lunch without a word, name each of the speakers in the rafters of the warehouse, bring his imaginary dog in the van, and put on an entire puppet show over dinner. He was grinding his teeth through the last one, and Hannibal and Face egging Murdock on wasn't helping. That, combined with Face shooting him concerned looks every few minutes, was quickly pushing him toward the edge.

When it felt like he was about to snap, he got up and said he was going for a walk. He was halfway down the block when Murdock caught up with him.

"Are you dying?" Murdock demanded, blocking his way.

"What?" he asked, trying to figure out where Murdock got that from for a moment, before realizing that he'd be there all night if he kept at it. "No."

Murdock didn't look convinced. "Are you sick?"

He didn't say, "Yeah, sick of you, fool," which he thought showed remarkable restraint on his part. Instead, he repeated, "No."

"Are you a _Skrull_?" Murdock asked, peering at him suspiciously. "Because if you are, I want the real B.A. back. You can have Face, instead."

"I ain't a pod person, either," he growled, and was about to ask what the hell was wrong with him and what the hell was a Skrull, when a guy bumped past Murdock, and he flinched away. The irritation drained out of him, and was replaced with horror.

He'd _broken_ Murdock.

###

The last couple days in San Francisco passed in a haze for B.A., where he went through the motions and played his part in the plan to perfection, but spent most of the time rattling around inside his own head. It was one thing to make Murdock jumpy around him, one _horrible_ thing, but teaching him to be jumpy around everyone -- except, apparently, Face and Hannibal -- was... He didn't know if there were any words to describe that.

He couldn't figure out how he managed to miss that this was happening. Yeah, there were a lot of strange things that Murdock did that he just ignored, because it was _Murdock_. But this was more than just Murdock being weird. Out of all of them, Murdock was the one he spent the most time with. How had he just ignored it and wrote everything off as Murdock being twitchy for no reason?

Every time he started to get annoyed at Murdock, he shoved it down, or took a walk. As far as he was concerned, Murdock could do whatever he wanted, because he deserved it. Every time he stopped and took a breath, though, it seemed like Murdock was purposefully trying to achieve Olympic levels of annoying.

When Murdock spent two hours talking in rhyme, B.A. didn't say anything. When he stole half of B.A.'s lunch again, he pushed the rest across the table to him. He wasn't that hungry, anyway. When he started narrating everything B.A. did, he grit his teeth and ignored it. When he decided they needed to repaint the robot because the red wasn't red enough -- _twice_ \-- and he needed B.A. with him while he picked out the new shade, he went and gave opinions on _colors_ for an hour. Both times.

When he spent a morning bouncing one of those little balls from the quarter machines in grocery stores off the side of the van, B.A. counted to ten and kept reminding himself that he could take out the dents when they got back to L.A. When he insisted they go by code names for the entire operation, and that B.A.'s was "darling" and his was "sweet baboo," he went with it.

After they left the gunrunners for the police, Murdock followed him back to help dismantle the machine potato cannon while Hannibal and Face went to talk to the client. Except "help" apparently meant "put on a twelve act play about making sandwiches." And every time B.A. picked up anything, even a coil of wire he was moving off a pair of pliers, Murdock demanded it for a new character in the play.

B.A. handed over _every single one_ , even offering a couple things before Murdock asked for them. By the end, there were thirty characters, and he was pretty sure Murdock didn't actually remember any of the names he gave them.

He made it through twenty minutes of Murdock sitting on a sawhorse next to home and singing "The Song That Never Ends" before he snapped.

He grabbed the front of Murdock's shirt and dragged him off the sawhorse until their faces were inches apart, yelling, "Your pain's never gonna end if you don't-"

When he realized that he'd just done what he swore he was going to stop doing, he broke off and let go. Before he could apologize, Murdock threw himself at him and wrapped his arms around his neck, saying, "You're back!"

B.A. automatically hugged back while he tried to switch gears from being so irritated it felt like someone was raking their fingernails down a chalkboard over and over to having Murdock clinging to him like he'd just come back from a year-long vacation.

"I told the Skrulls they couldn't have you," Murdock said when he pushed back and B.A. let go. His face was split in the widest grin B.A. had ever seen. "But I did say they could have Face, so we should probably warn Hannibal."

"What are you talking about?" B.A. asked, still trying to make the last two minutes make sense. Someone who was _scared_ of you didn't hug you right after you threatened to hurt them. He reached out and grabbed Murdock's shoulder. His only reaction was to look at B.A.'s hand, and then look back at him sympathetically.

"It's okay that you don't remember," Murdock said. He reached up and patted B.A.'s hand. "A lot of people don't, after coming back from the mothership."

B.A. ignored him -- he was just talking crazy again -- and dropped his hand. After a moment ("-Mockingbird didn't remember. Not that you're not _like_ a superhero-") he reached out and poked Murdock's other shoulder.

Murdock cocked his head at him for a moment. When he poked him again, he said, "Uh, sorry about the van. I'll help fix it?"

B.A. narrowed his eyes. "You've been trying to piss me off?"

When Murdock looked to the side and shifted on his feet, B.A. growled. "Maybe?" he tried, which was not the right answer.

Even if whatever was going on with Murdock wasn't about him, it was hard to shake the guilt off that quickly. Instead of grabbing him again, he stabbed a finger at his chest (Murdock didn't flinch) and said, "You ain't 'helping'." Murdock's face fell, until he added, "You're fixing her by yourself."

He tried not to smile at the grin that reappeared on Murdock's face, but he wasn't so sure that he succeeded.

###

That would have been it. B.A. could have gone back to spending increasingly smaller amounts of time being frustrated with Murdock, and more time wondering if maybe he should _do_ something about this thing for him that he'd developed. Except, right before they were going to head back to L.A., their client tapped Murdock on the back to get his attention, and Murdock jerked forward a little before turning around. B.A. didn't think he would have noticed it if he hadn't been looking for it.

He had been so relieved yesterday that it _wasn't him_ , that he hadn't stopped to think that just because he hadn't caused Murdock's twitchiness over the past week didn't mean that it wasn't still a problem. It didn't mean that it hadn't _been_ a problem that he hadn't noticed.

When Murdock walked by him to get in the van, he reached out and poked him gently between the shoulder blades. He flinched and turned around.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." B.A. stared after him while he climbed into the van, trying to make sense of what the difference between that and last night when he'd grabbed him. Face was staring at him, but when he shrugged, Face looked away.

###

Back in L.A. the next day, B.A. jerked awake from a sound sleep by his doorbell ringing. When he looked through the peephole, he could see Murdock standing outside, swinging a grocery bag in his hand and whistling.

"What are you doing here?" he asked when he opened the door.

"You told me I had to fix everything I did to the van," Murdock said slowly, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to remind B.A. of that.

"It's six. It ain't even light out yet." If he wasn't fairly sure Murdock had breakfast in that bag, he would have closed the door in his face.

Sure enough, Murdock held up the bag, saying, "I brought omelets, but if you don't want any, I can come back later." He stepped backward, but he was grinning while he did.

B.A. sighed and snagged his arm, dragging him in the apartment and propelled him toward the kitchen. "Go. Make food. Maybe I'll let you stay."

"Sure thing, big guy." Within seconds, Murdock was in the kitchen, pulling out a frying pan and bowl like he lived there.

Before long, the entire apartment smelled delicious, and when he came back to the kitchen, Murdock was just sliding a second omelet onto a plate. He walked by him while he was putting the plates on the table, and poked him in the back of the neck.

He flinched and turned around to stare at B.A., frowning a little like he couldn't figure out what B.A. _wanted_.

Which made two of them, because B.A. had no clue what he wanted, either. Or, rather, it wasn't knowing what he wanted that was the problem. He wanted to know what Murdock's problem was. He wanted to know if there were any asses that needed kicking. He wanted to know how he could and could not touch Murdock, because it was surprisingly upsetting to have him flinch away half the time, and not just in a "sometimes I want to kiss you but now I ain't so sure you even like me that much" way.

He just didn't know how to _get_ what he wanted. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that this wasn't a recent thing. That he'd been wrong a lot of the times that he'd thought Murdock was just being twitchy in general. That he'd been so busy ignoring all of his minor quirks that he hadn't noticed an important one. He couldn't just ask about something he should have noticed years ago.

"That's the one with extra ham," Murdock said, pointing like it wasn't obvious that B.A.'s was the one with what looked like an entire pig in it. "Also, Hannibal says we're supposed to meet him tonight 'cause we have another job."

"Already?" Usually they got at least a couple days in between jobs.

Murdock shrugged, and stared at him when he poked his shoulder, just to see.

###

B.A. woke up in Indiana. He was reaching for the curry being held in front of his face before he was fully conscious. His head was still fuzzy, but not fuzzy enough that he didn't remember telling Hannibal he would meet them there by van.

"It was all Hannibal," Murdock said when he jabbed him in the leg with the fork in between bites, then added after a moment, "And Face."

"This time," he said darkly. More often than not, Murdock was the one who stuck the needle in his neck. "Toast points?"

"Only the best for you," Murdock said, handing him another plate.

B.A. grunted and shoved at Murdock to get him to push over. Like trying to get him to respect personal space in the past had ever worked.

"Is he awake yet, Murdock?" Hannibal called from the other room.

"Yeah, boss," Murdock called over his shoulder. He flinched away when B.A. jabbed him in the leg again, like he hadn't not reacted to the same thing thirty seconds before.

He still couldn't figure out what the hell the difference was, but curry and toast points and coming up with suitable revenge for Hannibal and Face were more important at the moment. Waking up to food Murdock only made for him when he had to fly somewhere went a long way to calming his anger over it happening _again_.

###

The plant nursery they were going to save was down a long dirt drive off a busy road. The shop itself was small and so filled with cut flowers and potted plants that B.A. was worried he was going to knock something over every time he turned around. The greenhouse attached to the back was four times the size of the shop and more humid than Florida in the middle of August.

(That had been the worst job so far. It was hot, and sticky, and he'd had to wear a bear costume that smelled like piss and nachos. The only good point had been Murdock insisting they rent a car and go to Disney World for a day, and then dragging everyone on rollercoaster after rollercoaster. Of course, then he'd try to convince B.A. that rollercoasters were just like flying so he should be able to fly now, so it wasn't a perfect day. But pretty damn close.)

Hannibal was off trying to convince the people at the local Petal Harder store that the corporate office had sent him to do an audit. B.A., Face, and Murdock stayed behind at the shop in case anyone showed up to cause trouble, the way the owner said had been happening nearly every day. They'd sent the employees home, but the owner had insisted on staying. Which was probably good, because none of them actually knew anything about plants.

B.A. was stuck meandering back and forth between the sweltering greenhouse and the slightly less sweltering front of the shop, while Face manned the register, and Murdock hung out in the back of the greenhouse with Sandy, getting his hands dirty. Right now, Sandy was bent over him, her hand on his back, explaining something about whatever foolish plant they were looking at, and B.A. was _not jealous_.

Face poked his head through the greenhouse door as B.A. was about to turn around and go back to the front. "Sandy, there's someone out here with questions the new guy can't answer." He flashed her the smile he saved for making women think he was hot shit, and B.A. rolled his eyes.

Sandy looked up and grinned. "Sure thing. Are you going to be okay back here, Murdock?"

"I guess," he said dubiously, staring at the little plants in front of him.

B.A. turned to go back up front with Sandy. He was all the way to the door when Murdock said, "Wait, B.A.! You can't leave me back here alone with them."

He turned around, on the off chance that what he meant was "with these thugs that just came in through the back door" and not something crazy. But, he didn't. "With who?"

"With _them_ ," Murdock half-whispered, pointing to the plants he'd been leaning over.

Right. With the plants. B.A. looked back to Face, who shrugged and twirled a finger by his ear. Yeah, that was about right. He headed down the aisle, trusting that if whoever was out front was someone they needed to deal with, Face would have said something.

"What are you talking about, fool?" They were just little venus flytraps. They couldn't even hurt one of his pinky fingers. But when he reached out to touch one, Murdock knocked his hand away.

"That's what they want, you know," Murdock said, staring at them moodily. "They want my blood, but yours would probably do."

"How do you know that?" B.A. asked, against his better judgment.

"They said so. Can't you hear them?" Murdock glanced at him for a moment but turned back to the plants.

"No. They're _plants_." When Murdock didn't respond, B.A. poked him in the middle of the back. Mostly to see if, since Sandy had her hand there less than five minutes ago, that translated to him. Not because he was talking about _talking plants that wanted to eat people_.

Murdock jolted forward, and then whirled around and punched him in the arm, glaring. "If you feed me to them, they're still gonna want to eat you. You can't save yourself by sacrificing me."

"Ain't no plant that size gonna eat you, fool," B.A. said. Sometimes, logic worked with Murdock. Sort of. If it accepted whatever crazy premise he was working from, like "plants can eat people."

He blinked, and said, "I bet you think compys can't eat someone 'cause they're little, too."

B.A. opted _not_ to ask what the hell a compy was, and said, "They're _plants_."

"From _outer space_." Murdock was looking at him like this was obvious, logical, and meant something.

B.A. could tell that this was going to be one of _those_ jobs. He poked Murdock in the arm, for good measure. Instead of flinching away from it, he stepped forward with open arms and hugged him.

"What-" he started, going to push Murdock off, because what the fuck? But he didn't need to, because Murdock had already let go and ducked out of arms' reach by the time he reacted. "That ain't making me go along with you."

"That's okay." Murdock came back over and patted his arm. "I'll make sure they don't eat you anyway."

###

By lunch, Murdock had hugged B.A. five more times, three of which were after flinching away. He'd gone from ducking away out of arms' reach to where B.A. couldn't do anything immediately after to hanging on until B.A. pushed him off. Which he had been doing more and more halfheartedly as the morning went on, telling himself that it was easier to give in when Murdock was like this than to fight it. He still couldn't find a pattern in the flinching, when poking him with something in the same place didn't have consistent reactions.

When he poked Murdock under the picnic table, he expected a hug. He'd even turned slightly toward Murdock to make it easier for him. Instead, Murdock jerked his leg away and continued talking about how the carnivorous plants section was just as dangerous as the guys from Petal Harder at Face.

He did it again, and Murdock twitched again but still kept talking at Face. How the hell was that any different than what he'd been doing for the past few days? It wasn't just that he was talking to Face, because that hadn't stopped him two hours ago. He uneasily went back to eating his burger. He didn't like that there was another set of reactions thrown in now; figuring out shit like this was Hannibal's job. And... he kind of wanted that hug. A little. A very little.

He was still puzzling over it when Murdock turned to him and said, "And Bosco will stay back there with me to keep an eye on them, right big guy?"

"No," he said, poking Murdock's leg a third time for emphasis. "They're pl-" He broke off as Murdock wrapped his arms around him, and returned the hug with quick squeeze with one arm. After he pushed Murdock off of him, he said, "Fine, maybe."

"I knew you wouldn't let me get eaten," Murdock said smugly.

Face was staring at them strangely, and B.A. shrugged at him, because it was Murdock. What could you do? Face narrowed his eyes at him, and B.A. shrugged again.

"I'm going to see if Sandy wants to take a break," Face said, then added, "For lunch."

Right. For "lunch." And while Face and Sandy had "lunch" it would be just him and Murdock waiting for anyone to try to start trouble, or for Hannibal to call. Him, Murdock, and Murdock's insistence that the plants were going to eat people. B.A. turned and poked Murdock once more, for good measure. He flinched away and got up, crinkling the hamburger wrapper into a ball. When B.A. turned back, Face was turning away and frowning.

###

Between the picnic table and the back of the greenhouse, B.A. got three flinches and only one hug. When Murdock followed him up to the front of the store, where he planned on sitting in front of the fan and watching the newly installed security cameras for a while, it was two hugs and a flinch.

The most interesting part of the next hour was when Face and Sandy got too close to the connecting door, and they could hear Face trying to charm his way into her pants.

"I was thinking," he was saying. "When this is over, I could stay a few days, we could-"

Sandy laughed. "Oh, honey, no. I like you, but I don't like you _that_ much." She paused, and then added, "I'd better leave you guys to it. Hannibal will call if there's anything he needs from me?"

B.A. didn't hear how Face responded, because Murdock looked over at him and smirked, and he was busy trying to cover his laughing. He expected Face to come through the connecting door and lick his wounds with them. When he didn't after a couple moments, B.A. turned back to the monitors.

Murdock wandered around the front for a while, while B.A. put up his feet and split his attention between the screens showing the area outside the greenhouse, the screen showing the area outside the front entrance, and the newspaper that had been tucked into a drawer. The next time he looked up, Murdock had arranged a case of cut flowers into something approaching a rainbow, and was standing in front of a huge pot with a bunch of tall, skinny plants with bulbous heads.

"I've got my eyes on you," he said, pointing from his eyes to the plants warningly. "You may think you'll be able to take over the world, but not as long as I'm around to stop you."

"Stop fooling around," B.A. said, with the faint hope of it actually working to shut Murdock up.

Instead, he came over and hopped up on the counter. "You know, we can feed anyone who tries to mess with the place to the plants. Easy cleanup!"

"We ain't feeding anybody to any plants," B.A. said, and then picked up a trowel sitting next to the monitor and poked him on the hip when he realized what he'd said. He hated it when he started playing along with one of Murdock's games without realizing it.

Murdock leaned across the counter to hug him, overbalanced, and ended up on the floor at his feet. B.A. only felt a little bad for laughing.

###

When B.A. climbed off the porch and went inside, satisified that he'd braced the roof enough to hold the load of dirt that was going up there, Murdock and Face were peering into the cash drawer and snickering.

"What're you fools doing?" he asked. Murdock acting that gleeful was never a good thing.

"Bosco!" Murdock said cheerfully. "Come watch this!"

He went over warily, because the last time those words came out of Murdock's mouth, "this" turned out to mean "me almost blow us up with a modified spear gun." The two of them had most of the ancient cash register disassembled and spread out over the counter, and a pile of broken sticks off to one side. The register itself was held up off the counter by two bricks.

"Come on," Murdock said, holding one of the sticks against the edge of the opening.

Face had one hand buried inside the register, going through the bottom. "Hang on, I can't find the catch... Wait, got it."

The drawer slammed shut hard enough to snap the stick in half, and send the entire register back half a foot. Face and Murdock started laughing, while B.A. resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands.

"Hannibal said _disable_ the ones who were going for the cash," he said.

"They're not gonna be doing anything if they don't have any fingers left on one hand," Murdock pointed out when he got control of himself again.

"This ain't what Hannibal had in mind," B.A. said. He'd go get Hannibal off the greenhouse roof if he had to, to prove it. "How about just breaking 'em."

"But it would-" Murdock started.

"No."

"We could-"

" _No_."

Murdock looked like he was going to keep trying to argue the point, but Face cut in with, "Well if you insist on sucking all the joy out of life. Besides, Murdock, I don't think those rods are going to hold up much longer."

"We could get another set of rods," Murdock said. "Or another spring that-"

"Sorry man," Face told him. "Maybe next time."

Murdock muttered something that might have been about them always ruining his fun, but B.A. wasn't sure.

"How's Hannibal doing with the sprayers?" Face asked, wiping his hands off on a cloth.

"Last I saw, he's still up on the roof setting them up."

Face nodded. "I'm going to go convince the nice men down at the farm and garden that they don't need all that extra fill that's lying around."

"Ooo," Murdock looked up from wrapping wire around broken sticks to keep them in a shape that was maybe supposed to be a person. "Can you get me one of those straw hats? The ones with the hole in the top, so my hat can still breathe?"

"I'll look," Face said, smirking a little.

Afer he left, B.A. started undoing what they'd done to the register while Murdock started stacking the spare parts into a tower. It didn't take long to rig the drawer to slam shut with less force, or to make it jam when it was open a couple inches so someone would reach in to try to pull it open enough to get the money.

Sometime after finishing the tower and leaning his stick person against it, Murdock disappeared. By the time B.A. got back from picking up an IR emitter at RadioShack, he was back and the tower had turned into a circular wall with the stick person inside it.

"What if," Murdock said, leaning over B.A.'s shoulder and poking at the emitter he was trying to affix to the inside of the drawer. "What if it only snapped off one finger. We could use it as a sacrifice so the-"

"If the next words coming out of your mouth have anything to do with those plants in the back, you're gonna be the sacrifice." B.A. elbowed him until he backed off, so that he had space to work.

The next time he looked up, Murdock was _right there_ , holding a snapdragon plant and pinching the flower open and shut while he squeaked, "Feed me!"

"What," B.A. said.

"Feed me, Bosco," he squeaked again, while he held the pot in front of his face. "I'm starvin'!"

When it didn't seem that his attempts to make both of them disappear through glaring alone were going to work, he said, "If you don't knock it off, I'm feeding it your hat."

"You wouldn't," Murdock said, but he took a long step back at the same time.

"You gonna bet your hat's life on that?" he asked, straightening.

Murdock ran out the door, the snapdragons cradled in the crook of one arm, his other hand holding his baseball cap on his head.

It wasn't long before he was back, though, this time to actually help. Between the two of them, they made short work of setting up the trigger so that it _should_ work. B.A. hit the open button and the drawer jammed just where it was supposed to. When he looked for the sticks Face and Murdock had been using before to play with it, there weren't any left that were long enough to test it safely.

"Hey fool," he said to Murdock, "stick your fingers in here and see if it works."

"It's done?" Murdock asked, peering into the drawer.

"If it works." He glanced over and then went back to sorting through the mess on the counter to find something long enough to use.

It took a moment for him to register what Murdock had been doing when he looked over. In the time it took him to whip back around, Murdock had his fingers almost inside the drawer.

He grabbed his hand and jerked it back. "What the hell, man?"

"I was seeing if it works," Murdock said, grinning.

"You _want_ broken fingers, you crazy-ass fool?" B.A. demanded.

He shrugged. "It was my left hand," he said, and when B.A. just started at him, continued, "That's my spare, so it can get a little banged up."

Of course he didn't care if his fingers were all broken. It was Murdock; his favorite activity was giving B.A. a god damn heart attack once a week. He tried to let go, but at some point Murdock had turned his own hand over and laced his fingers through B.A.'s. B.A. jerked his hand away -- he wasn't going to reward him for nearly getting his fingers broken -- and ignored his hurt look.

"Do not," B.A. pointed at him, "play with that."

"Of course not, Bosco," Murdock said sweetly to him.

He didn't trust that fool for a minute. "Never mind, show me where you and Face got those sticks."

###

The trap in the register worked just like it was supposed to. Instead of sticks, they ended up taking the bones from lunch and using those. After they cleaned up the counter so it looked like everything was still operational -- which included Murdock rescuing his wired-together person from the trash and hiding it in a bushy plant -- they headed into the greenhouse to help Hannibal finish setting up the sprayers from inside.

B.A. poked Murdock in the back of the neck as they went through the door. He flinched forward, but kept walking. After spending the past couple hours hovering around B.A. like an annoying fly, even trying to hold his hand that one time, Murdock still flinched when he touched him. It didn't make any fucking sense.

He moved up beside Murdock, who gave him a questioning look this time, and poked him again. Murdock grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together with a triumphant look. B.A. tried to pull away, but he was holding on too tightly.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked.

"Holding your hand?" Murdock checked between them, and added, "Yup, that's it."

"I'm not holding hands with you." He tried to pull away again, but Murdock only hung on more stubbornly. At this point, the rules seemed to be that Murdock could grab him whenever he wanted, but B.A. could only touch Murdock at Murdock's whim.

"You _gave_ me your hand, Bosco," he said, glaring. B.A. wasn't going to be tricked into thinking that he was being the unreasonable one here. "I can keep it."

"No, you can't." He grabbed Murdock's wrist and used the leverage to pry his other hand away. "We're supposed to be working."

Murdock walked along for a couple of steps looking suspiciously like he was sulking, but then brightened and said, "But if we _weren't_ working?"

"No," B.A. said again. If Murdock wanted to after B.A. figured out what the hell made him flinch half the time -- and if he wanted to as something more than shits and giggles -- then he'd think about it. But not now.

###

In the middle of running the main hose out through one of the vents, B.A. reached over and poked Murdock's shoulder. Murdock, in turn, grabbed his hand.

"Let go," he said, pulling his hand away. Murdock's hand came with it.

"You don't really want me to," Murdock said.

That was not the point; the point was that he had told Murdock to let go and he wouldn't. The tug of war that resulted ended in a broken pot and Hannibal yelling in, "If you're going to horse around, do it outside."

Murdock let go.

###

When Face finally got back with the load of fill -- and no straw hat for Murdock to put on top of his regular hat -- they set up a winch to get the dirt where it needed to go and started moving it in small loads.

In between loads, B.A. poked Murdock when he walked by, more often than not making him jerk away. On the times he didn't, he grabbed B.A.'s hand and refused to let go until B.A. put actual weight behind trying to make him.

It was taking him longer and longer to pull away each time. If there was one thing that Murdock was good at, it was wearing him down into going along with his shenanigans.

###

By dark, it was clear that Murdock had decided to replace hugs with holding hands. If B.A. were a good person, he would have been able to say that, since Murdock was doing it to mess with him and make him stop, he backed off. He would have been able to say that he wasn't flipping between being annoyed and wanted Murdock to knock it off, and thinking that maybe -- _maybe_ \-- him and Murdock wasn't something he needed to stop thinking about.

Instead, he kept catching himself poking Murdock with things more often. With the blunt end of a screwdriver, a wrench, a board, a pen, his finger. He flinched more often than not, and almost fell off a ladder one time, which B.A. felt kind of bad about, so he stopped doing it when Murdock wasn't on solid ground. While they were all taking a break and eating, he kept reaching over and poking Murdock, until Murdock slid closer to him and grabbed his hand, and held it under the table. B.A. let him, and tried not to think about it.

When Face pulled him aside, half an hour before they were had to be in positions to wait for the vandals to show up, he assumed it was about the job. It wouldn't be the first time Hannibal changed the plan at the last minute and left one of them to tell the others.

Instead, Face checked to make sure that they were alone, and then said, "Look. I don't know what Murdock did to piss you off so bad, or if you've just decided that making him jump is a fun new game to play, but cut it the fuck out."

B.A. crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Face. "I just touched his arm. I ain't got any idea why he's this jumpy now, but it ain't 'cause I'm pissed." If he was pissed, he wouldn't be talking to Murdock unless he had to, never mind letting him stomp all over his personal space.

Face stared at him. "...Seriously? You're just noticing this _now_?"

Even though it was exactly what he'd asked himself when the whole thing started, it still put his back up. "If I paid attention to every weird thing that fool does, there'd be no time to pay attention to anything else."

"Oh man." Face laughed, and B.A. started calculating how long it would take to bury a body. "He's never liked people touching him. So if you're not doing it to be a dick, knock it off. Did you seriously not know?"

No, he hadn't known. But if Murdock wanted him to stop, he'd tell him to. He was pretty sure. "If Murdock had a problem with it, he'd say something."

Face held his hands up. "Okay. Whatever you say. But at least leave him alone when we're on a job. I don't think you'd want him all rattled when we're trying not to get ourselves killed."

"Yeah," he said, and walked away. If Murdock had a problem with it, if Murdock wanted him to stop, he'd _say something_. He could stand up for himself; he didn't need anyone to protect him from his friends.

###

Nothing that night went to plan. Or, rather, everything went perfectly to plan. The night ended with one guy trapped by the register with a broken hand, two buried in dirt, and three covered in manure and locked in a shed. The cops arrested them, and it looked like they were going to be going home in the morning.

It all went to plan, it just _didn't work_.

In the morning, Hannibal got a panicked call from Sandy, because her two morning employees were in the hospital after having been jumped on the way to work. So they were back to planning. Again.

"Where's my bagel?" Murdock asked when B.A. started in on the breakfast he'd snatched for himself.

"You don't get one," he said.

"Why not?" Murdock was hovering over B.A., eyeing the bagel.

B.A. hunched forward a little, guarding the half that was on the table. If he didn't Murdock was going to just take it. "Because I only have one."

"One with two halves," he pointed out.

His hand was slowly inching toward the bagel, so B.A. stabbed at it with his plastic knife. "Two halves that ain't yours."

"But one could be mine," he pointed out again, smiling like he was being reasonable and charming, and B.A. was the one being ridiculous here. "If you gave it to me."

"No." He jabbed at him with the knife again, and this time, Murdock pulled away and sat down with his arms crossed over his chest. Life, apparently, was very unfair, which was his own damn fault for not thinking to grab something to eat. B.A. wasn't going to feel sorry for him.

Hannibal was watching them, somewhere between amused and annoyed, while Face snickered quietly. "Are we ready?"

"Sure, boss," Murdock said, settling back in the chair and sulking. He still wasn't getting the other half of the bagel. B.A. reached over and poked him with the end of the knife, ignoring Face's look. It made Murdock twitch but didn't make him look over.

"Deal with the groups of vandals separately isn't going to work," Hannibal said, tapping the table with one hand. "We need to cut it out at the source."

B.A. poked him again, in the side this time, and Murdock flinched away.

"Their books had some irregularities, but finding out about the sabotage plans was more important at the time. So Face, you'll have to go in later and get a closer look."

This time, when B.A. poked him, Murdock turned as he flinched and glared at him.

"Their security is-"

The fourth poke resulted in Murdock interrupting Hannibal and whining, "Hannibal, he keeps touching me, make him stop."

Hannibal rolled his eyes, but wasn't quite successful at hiding his snicker. B.A. felt even worse that Murdock _had_ been wanting him to stop, and he'd just been ignoring all the little hints. Face was right; he needed to knock it off, because he was just being an asshole.

"Can we get back to work?" Face asked, looking at B.A. when he said it. "If I'm going to get in there and get a look at their books this soon after Hannibal, I'm going to need plenty of time today."

B.A. nodded and, when Hannibal started talking again, slid the other half of the bagel over to Murdock. He ignored the grin Murdock shot his way, because he was pretty sure a bagel wasn't enough to apologize for spending weeks being an asshole.

###

They were in Indiana for another five days before they got the manager of the local Petal Harder arrested. Five days in which B.A. left Murdock alone. He didn't poke him, he didn't brush against him when he was walking by, he didn't grab him and shake him when he kept going on about the plants.

Murdock, for his part, alternated between leaving him alone while shooting him the occasional sidelong glance, and bugging him about plants from outer space. It was just _not normal_ enough to keep him thinking about what an asshole he'd been, and how pissed off Murdock was.

He should have just asked Murdock about it in the first place, instead of playing a fucked up game that wasn't actually fun for either of them. Instead of getting the whole thing cleared up as soon as he realized that it wasn't just Murdock being weird temporarily, he'd spent the past few weeks torturing both of them.

He was going to actually talk to Murdock when they got back to L.A.

###

It was one thing to be full of good intentions and plans for serious talks when B.A. knew they were going to be in Indiana for a while yet. It was different once they were back in L.A. and the idea wasn't a "will eventually happen" thing. He couldn't remember the last time he tried to have a serious conversation with _anyone_ , let alone someone like Murdock, so he put it off until he worked up his nerve.

When it passed the point where he could claim to be doing anything other than stalling, he called Murdock and asked if he could come over.

The silence on the other end went on long enough for B.A. to seriously consider saying never mind and hanging up. Instead, he manned up and said, "I need to talk to you."

"Uh, sure?" Murdock sounded nervous, with good reason, given his next words. "Is this about the van?"

"What did you do to my van?" B.A. demanded, hurrying down the stairs.

"Nothing!" Murdock said. "Nothing at all! Definitely nothing, and if there _was_ something it would have been Face's fault so really you should yell at him. You can barely see the stain, so-"

"Murdock," B.A. interrupted. He would go on forever, digging himself a hole, if he let him. "It ain't about the van. I just need to talk to you."

"Okay," Murdock said slowly. "Is it about-"

"Stop." He checked the back of the van, where Murdock and Face usually sat, and sure enough, there was what looked like a mustard stain on one seat. It must have been from the job nearly three weeks ago. He'd have to have a chat with Face about eating in the van, napkins, and why food stains weren't the same as bloodstains no matter what he thought. "Stop digging yourself deeper. I'll be there in half an hour."

He used the time to try to figure out what he was going to say. Even after spending nearly two weeks going over it in his head, he still wasn't sure how he actually wanted it to come out. If something had _happened_ it wasn't necessarily something that Murdock would want to talk about, otherwise he would have said something before. B.A. didn't want to upset him, he just wanted to know if there was anything he could do. And why the hell he only jumped some of the time.

He figured he could come at it from the side, which wasn't exactly his strong point. Maybe he should have gone to Hannibal again instead of trying to deal with this shit on his own, but it was too late now.

###

"So," B.A. said once he was sitting at one end of Murdock's ratty couch, a glass of milk in one hand. Murdock sat at the other end, tapping something out on the arm. "Is there something I should know?"

"You're eighty times more likely to die in a car crash than a plane crash," Murdock said, even though B.A. already knew that because Murdock tried to use it to get him on a plane at least once a month.

"Those statistics are still for planes that ain't flown by you," he pointed out again. Six hundredth time's the charm, right? "Anything else?"

"Sharks are actually smart," he said this time instead of trying to argue about the plane thing. "They're like the compsognathuses of the sea. There was this show on the Discovery Channel last-"

"I mean," B.A. said before he could get going and derail the conversation that B.A. was trying to have, "anything I should know about _you_."

"...uh." Murdock took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "Not that I can think of?"

"Nothing about you?" he said slowly, enunciating the last two words.

Murdock thought about it, long enough that B.A. started to think that they were getting somewhere, and then said, "I think strawberry jam lasagna sounds like a good idea."

B.A.'s lip curled involuntarily at that. "No it don't. You trick me into eating any of that and it'll be the last thing you make." He tried to bring the conversation back around to where he was trying to lead it. "I mean anything about the last few weeks."

Murdock's fingers froze mid-tap and his hand flattened out on the arm of the couch. His mouth, which was in the middle of opening to protest B.A. nixing the lasagna, snapped shut. He stared at B.A. long enough that he almost decided to change the subject and drop it. But then Murdock slid a little closer and put an arm up on the back of the couch, a little half smile on his face.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

The little smile unnerved B.A.; he only got that look when Hannibal was describing the latest impossible stunt he wanted Murdock to pull off.

"I mean-" he started. He broke off and stared when Murdock slid a little closer. That fool was up to something, and not knowing what it was made B.A. nervous.

"It's okay," Murdock said soothingly. He put a hand on B.A.'s knee and leaned closer. "You don't have to be embarrassed to talk about this. We spend a lot of time together, it's perfectly natural."

B.A. leaned away from him a little, his chest tight. "You know I'd kick someone's ass for you. If you needed me to."

Murdock's brow furrowed. "Why would I need you to kick someone's ass?"

"If someone... did something," he explained.

"Oh." Murdock pulled back and moved his hand. B.A. kind of missed it. "'Course I know that." He paused, but just as B.A. was about to try again, he abruptly changed the subject. "But, that last job, that was fun, huh? Especially rigging the register to break fingers."

It was tempting to go with the subject change and try again later. Except he was pretty sure that he wasn't going to get up the nerve again.

"No," he said. "We're talking about this."

"That's what I'm _doing_ ," Murdock said, sliding away a little.

It was easier to breathe with him further away. B.A. couldn't remember why he thought it was a good idea to try to come at it from the side with Murdock. It ended in frustration and him yelling most the time when he tried it, and he was never sure how much of that was Murdock deliberately not getting it.

He was pretty sure that was what was happening now. "Why do you jump so damn high when I touch you," he snapped. "That ain't right, dude."

Murdock's face froze, the little half-smile not reaching his eyes anymore. After a long moment of just staring, the little half-smile slowly faded off his face. He opened and closed his mouth, but didn't say anything.

B.A. was a world class asshole. "I didn't-" he started.

But he stopped when Murdock muttered something that sounded like, "Abort abort pull out now."

"I don't want to talk about it," Murdock said in a rush at a normal volume. He pushed himself off the couch, jamming his hat on his head, and made for the door. "I gotta go. I left the oven on, and Billy doesn't like it when the apartment gets all hot."

The door slammed behind him, and B.A. dropped his head in his hands. Great, he'd managed to chase Murdock out of his own apartment. There was no possible way this could get worse.

###

It didn't occur to B.A. that Murdock might not be coming back until the football game he'd put on changed to late night infomercials. He wasn't quite sure if that counted as "getting worse," but he was regretting tempting fate, just in case.

He was tired, and frustrated, and sick of that bullshit, and just wanted everything to go back to normal. He couldn't just _leave_ though, and tried to convince himself that it was only partly out of sheer pigheadedness.

He got up to rummage through Murdock's fridge; there was always something good to eat in there. A full casserole dish of fish fingers and what looked like _pudding_ was right in the front, with a big DON'T TOUCH written in Murdock's handwriting on a post-it on the cover.

"Ain't no one with tastebuds gonna touch that," he muttered, and pulled out a plate of leftover pot roast.

If Murdock wanted him to leave, well. He should have said something instead of just rocketing out of there like his ass was on fire. Feeling bad about chasing him out of his own apartment didn't outweigh being pissed at Murdock running away instead of acting like an adult. He wasn't sure what to do about it, but his options seemed to be to either wait for Murdock to come back or chase him, and chasing would make him look as crazy as the fool. Hannibal would have a plan that would work to smooth the whole thing over. Face would have a plan that would... _might_ smooth things over.

B.A.'s plan was to wait. That was why he didn't make the plans.

It turned out not to be as horrible an idea as he'd thought. He glanced out the kitchen window and saw a person lurking in the shadows on the opposite side of the street that looked suspiciously like Murdock.

So he unlocked the window and pushed it up just enough to lean out and yell down, "This is my apartment now, fool."

It _was_ Murdock, who yelled back, "You can have it."

"And I'm going to eat that fish sticks mess." If that didn't get him back inside, nothing would.

Murdock was quiet for long neough that B.A. started to think that it hadn't worked. But then he yelled, "If you touch that, I'll lick your van. _Everywhere_."

"You wouldn't," B.A. growled.

"Would so."

"I'd kill you." He should have seen that backfiring, really. He'd known Murdock long enough to know that he threw a wrench in everything, every time.

"I'm good at hiding." Murdock sounded distinctly smug. "You'd never find me."

B.A. sighed, and gave in. "Look, are you going to come back up or not?"

"I'm still thinking about it." Murdock paused, then asked, "You're not leaving?"

"Not until you get back up here," B.A. said.

"So. We're good?"

" _Yes_ ," B.A. said, digging his fingers into the window frame. "Anything else you need to know? Do you need me to tell you you're my best friend or some shit?"

Murdock appeared to think about it, then said, "Yes."

"Oh, for-" B.A. muttered. "You're my best friend. Now get your ass up here."

"Oh, okay then." B.A. watched Murdock cross the street, hands in his pockets. When he got to the door, he stopped and yelled up, "Don't touch my fish pudding."

Disgusting.

###

If Murdock had just backed off, everything would have been fine. B.A. could have let it go, and got over whatever the fuck the thing that he had for him was. It wasn't like he was the kind of guy who could be happy in a relationship that was basically celibacy with a best friend.

But Murdock (almost) never did what B.A. wanted. So of course it made sense that instead of backing off, he stepped up his habit of invading B.A.'s personal space like it was the Bay of Normandy and he was the Germans.

B.A. would be underneath the van, patching up the damage done by yet another hard landing, just so she'd run enough to get home, and Murdock would sit down, the side of his leg pressing against B.A.'s. And then proceed to talk his ear off about whatever he was going on about that day.

Or he'd be bent over a table, going over a plan with Hannibal, and Murdock would lean over him with a hand on his shoulder. Or brush something off his mohawk, or hold on just a bit too long when handing him something, or decide that B.A. looked tense and needed a shoulder massage.

Which, okay, he was, and Murdock was good at them, and he had felt better, but still.

That would have all been fine, except Murdock _still_ ducked away half the time when B.A. went to lean over him or grab his shoulder. If it weren't for how often Murdock was standing too close, or hanging off him, or showing up at his apartment (or _in_ his apartment) or at the youth center for no reason, B.A. would think that Murdock really didn't like him.

But he was pretty damn sure he did, and also pretty damn sure that the mixed messages were getting old. So he backed off. Every time he tried to do something, he made a mess of things. So it was time to just do nothing and forget about it.

***

Except B.A. couldn't make himself stop _thinking_ about it. Especially on days where it seemed like everyone was out to point out just how much more comfortable Murdock was with them (or whatever it was).

"Hey buddy," Face said, putting his hand on Murdock's shoulder and then smirking at B.A. If B.A. were a lesser person, he would wipe that smirk off the little shit's face.

Murdock narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Hannibal needs you in the other room," Face said.

"Oh, right." When Murdock walked by B.A., he brushed his arm against him. B.A. was pretty sure it was on purpose. Face just stood there smirking at him.

"You got a problem?" B.A. asked.

"Nope," Face said. "Not a thing."

B.A. didn't realize that he should have been suspicious about Hannibal needing to talk to Murdock alone until Murdock came back and shoved a rag into his face, saying, "Does this smell like chloroform to you?"

It did.

The last thing B.A. heard was Face saying, "I'm pretty sure that's not what the boss meant" and Murdock replying, "Hey, it wor-"

When he came to, he was in the back of a cargo plane, with his head in Murdock's lap and Murdock petting his mohawk. For a fuzzy second, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could make this work. So what if he'd have to let Murdock do the initiating of _everything_? Maybe he could work with that.

"Oh, good, you're up," Murdock said. "The boss needs you outside in five minutes."

"I oughtta kill you," B.A. muttered, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. He could feel a lump forming. Again. He was going to get a serious head injury at some point, from Murdock not waiting until he was _sitting down_ before knocking him out, and then they'd all be sorry they hadn't just taken jobs within driving distance.

Murdock patted his shoulder, and then gave him a hand up. "You could, but then you'd never get to eat any of my gourmet cooking again."

"It ain't that good," B.A. said, lying through his teeth.

"That's why you and the Faceman almost got in a fist fight over the last piece of pie the other week? You were trying to save each other from having to eat it?"

"Yeah, sure," B.A. said.

"That's too bad," Murdock said, bumping his shoulder against B.A.'s, "because I was going to make more when we got back, since you guys loved it so much."

"Maybe it wasn't too awful," B.A. said grudgingly, trying not to grin.

"Mmhmm." Murdock bumped shoulders again, then jumped off the edge of the ramp, calling back with a grin, "I have feelings, you know."

"So does the back of my head." B.A. walked down the ramp, still sort of dizzy from the chloroform.

"Face's fault," Murdock said, eliciting a "Hey!" and a glare from Face. "He was supposed to catch you."

Somehow, B.A. didn't believe him. Maybe because that was what he always said. He almost brushed past Murdock, remembering just in time that he was laying off and taking a step to the side to go around him. Maybe he could do this.

***

B.A. knew that Face was doing it to fuck with him. He wasn't sure what Face had figured out, or if he'd even figured out anything beyond an easy way to piss B.A. off was to touch Murdock and look smug.

It worked embarrassingly well.

But it had been months since B.A. realized that Murdock jerked away from him a lot of the time, and he still couldn't figure out what Face and Hannibal were doing different. Hannibal, he could just chalk up to it being _Hannibal_. And he would have let it go a long time ago, if it had just been him that Murdock had a problem with. But he didn't always flinch from other people.

So there was something B.A. was missing, and the more he tried not to think about it, to just _let it go_ , the more he couldn't stop turning it over in his mind. Especially with Murdock flipping back and forth between whether or not he was okay with B.A.

When they got back from dealing with some shady cattle ranchers, the first thing Face did when he got out of the van was look over to see if B.A. was watching, and then elbow Murdock in the ribs when Murdock turned to look at him and suggest he make them all dinner, to celebrate yet another job well done. And then cast a grin over his shoulder at B.A.

After dinner, Hannibal clapped Murdock on the shoulder and told him he should make risotto more often. Face did the same, while looking back at B.A., and left with Hannibal, discussing their next job as they walked out. B.A. hung back to help Murdock clean up (and to steal leftovers for lunch the next day).

While Murdock was bent over loading the dishwasher, B.A. tried to squeeze behind him to put a pile of plates on the counter, but the space was just barely too tight. When he brushed against Murdock, Murdock started, and dropped the dish he was trying to fit in the back.

Maybe if he hadn't, just five minutes before, watched Murdock interacting with other people normally, he would have let it go. Or maybe if Murdock hadn't spent the past week touching B.A. every chance he got. Or maybe if B.A. didn't spend so much damn time with him.

B.A.'s mama always said there wasn't any use in thinking about the maybes that didn't happen when you should be dealing with the maybe that did.

"What the hell, man?" he said, dropping the dishes on the couter with a crash, uncomfortably aware of how close this was to how the last disasterous conversation had gone. "Why do you have a problem with me getting anywhere near you, when you spend _all day_ up in my space?"

Murdock opened his mouth, shut it, straightened, and said, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously," B.A. snapped. "You don't have a problem with Hannibal or Face, so what the hell's the problem with me?"

Murdock stared at him long enough to make B.A. start to shift uncomfortably and seriously consider just saying fuck it and leaving. Finally, after a long pause, he said, "Hannibal always makes sure I know what he's gonna do. And Face doesn't touch me unless I can see him doing it." He paused again, looking at B.A. like something had just clicked into place. "Oh, _that's_ why you've been being so weird. I thought you were pissed over something. Did you seriously not know this?"

B.A. was asking himself the same question. It wasn't like he'd just met Murdock; how hadn't he noticed this? In any case, "You _knew_ I didn't know."

Murdock gave him a look, like "How could I know that?"

B.A. did not yell, no matter how much he wanted to. "Why else," he said slowly, "would I ask you why you did that. Before the last mission."

Murdock screwed up his face in a way that B.A. chose to interpret as "I don't know," and "I didn't think about it," and "I'm an idiot." The last was true, regardless of if that was what Murdock meant.

He continued, seeming to take B.A.'s silence to mean that he wanted to know more, and not that he was considering where to dispose of the body. “They took away the Rangers, they took away my wings, and they took away any control I had over where I went and when. All because-” He broke off for a moment. “I don’t like it when people come at me from where I can’t see ‘em. A bunch of years of being hauled around by orderlies will do that to a person.”

“Why didn’t you _say_ something?”

"I don't know, I just figured you liked watching me jump!"

"You just figured-" B.A. made a strangled noise. His mama would die if she ever found out she'd raised a boy that seemed like he could just torture someone for fun. His _best friend_ thought that. Even Face thought that, given their conversation a couple weeks ago. Hell, for all he knew, Hannibal did too. Which explained why none of them had thought to clue him in.

"What?" Murdock asked, leaning back against the counter a little, making B.A. realize just how close they were standing.

B.A. moved around to the other side of the table, to give Murdock space -- to give _himself_ space.

"Let me make sure I got this," he said. "You thought I was just doing it to be an asshole."

"Yeah?" Murdock said, looking like he wasn't sure where the conversation was going and just knew that it had taken an unexpected turn away from where he wanted. "I mean, I thought you knew?"

"What the _fuck_ , man?" How the hell could someone who'd known him as long as Murdock had think that? What was he thinking, wanting to have some sort of relationship with Murdock?

"What?" Murdock asked again, crossing his arms over his chest and straightening up off the counter.

"I ain't like that," B.A. snapped, "and you should know that. Man, I thought we were friends."

"We _are_." Murdock's voice was somewhere between confused and angry, with a healthy dose of frustration.

"Maybe you forgot this, going in and out of nuthouses, but friends don't do that kind of shit to friends." This was why people weren't supposed to try to date people they worked with. It only ever ended in finding out something like your friend thought you were some kind of sadist. "Man, I knew you were crazy, but I didn't think you were that out of it."

Murdock opened his mouth and closed it, dropping his arms and curling his hands into fists. Now he knew what it felt like to have a friend think something horrible and _wrong_ about you.

"Well it's not like there was much else for me to think," Murdock said, his body stiff. "You're the one who all of a sudden started _touching_ me all the time. I thought-" He broke off and clenched his teeth.

That was a double standard if B.A. ever heard one. If someone had just said something to him, this entire fight wouldn't be happening. But no, people were happier assuming he was some kind of asshole. "Yeah, sorry, guess I lost my Crazy Pilots for Dummies somewhere in Iraq."

"You know what? Fine. Maybe we're not friends," Murdock said, looking away.

"Fine," B.A. said, ignoring the twist in his gut.

" _Fine_." Murdock turned back to the dishes, and B.A. stomped out.

###

If someone had suggested to B.A. a year ago that he would miss Murdock talking in his ear constantly, he would have laughed in their face. And then have to listen to Murdock telling him that yes, he would miss him, for the rest of the day, in increasingly creative (and annoying) ways.

Murdock would have been right.

Right then, what he wouldn't miss was Murdock's ability to _keep_ him angry, enough to outweigh the missing hanging out part. Every time he'd seen Murdock since that fight, he'd been considering letting it go. Then Murdock would break out whatever bullshit he decided to pull that day to make sure B.A. knew he was still pissed.

"Face, will you ask B.A. if he has any extra 3/4" pipes I'll be able to use?" Today, it was refusing to talk directly to B.A.

"Murdock wants to know-" Face started, but snapped his mouth shut when B.A. shot him a venemous glare.

"They're out back," he said in Murdock's direction, "grab a couple before we leave."

There was a long silence before Murock said, "Face?"

"He says they're out back," Face said, his lips twitching in a way that looked susiciously like he was trying not to grin.

Before Face could continue relaying what B.A. had said, even though Murdock could damn well hear him fine, Hannibal, who had been studying floor plans, said mildly, "Is this an alpha unit, or a kindergarten?"

"He started it," Murdock muttered.

"I ain't the one who-" B.A. started to snap, and then stopped. "The van'll be ready to leave on Friday," he said and walked out, ignoring the frown on Murdock's face.

###

B.A. planned to spend Thursday doing last-minute checks on the van's new suspension, but when he got there, Murdock was leaning against the bumper, arms crossed, staring at an oil stain on the floor.

"Get off the bumper," he said, heading for the tool cart.

"I'm sorry I thought you were an asshole," Murdock said, standing up and stepping away from the van.

That was all it took for how stupid the entire thing was to come into sharp focus for B.A. He sighed, and said, "I'm sorry I _was_ an asshole."

Murdock made a frustrated sound and glared at B.A., which was unfair, because he just apologized. "That was after, I'm talking about before."

"After _what_?" B.A. asked, willing himself not to get pissed because he'd lost the thread of the conversation so quickly.

Murdock made the frustrated noise again and jammed his hands in his pockets. "When you were angry even though I didn't _do_ anything. I'm sorry I thought you were an asshole before that." He paused for a second, then said, "And it's not like I don't love you best anyway, so _what's the problem_? I do the same sort of thing to you."

B.A. couldn't think of anything that was even remotely similar that Murdock did. "What, exactly, do you do?"

"You sneak up behind me, and I drug you and stuff you in planes. How is that not equivalent?"

Because one of those was for a _job_. "Murdock, that ain't the same. I'm an asshole to you all the time."

"That's just how some people show affection," Murdock said dismissively, moving closer to him. "Besides, you're nice way more than you're an asshole."

B.A. couldn't help raising an eyebrow a bit. Unless "not killing Murdock" counted as being nice, the amount of time he spent telling Murdock off far outweighed the amount of time he spent doing nice things for him. Or even neutral things for him.

Murdock sighed like he was being stubborn and stupid on purpose, and started ticking things off on his fingers, to B.A.'s horror. "You don't kick me out of the garage, you made a new propeller for that toy helicopter even though I spent all day divebombing your head with it, you helped me fix up my fingers that one time, you let me work on the van even though you don't let Face and Hannibal-"

B.A. could feel his ears getting hot. "Okay, okay," he said gruffly.

Murdock continued over him, a look of frustrated determination on his face. "If I didn't like you, I wouldn't flirt with you _all the time_."

"You don't _flirt_ ," B.A. said, before his brain caught up with what Murdock was saying. "You pester, and break things, and molest my van, and don't listen when I tell you to go away or get off me-"

Murdock was giving him a look that said, "Exactly."

"You're lucky I like you," B.A. muttered, looking away.

"So," Murdock said cautiously, "we're good again?"

"'We're good'?" B.A. asked, refocusing on Murdock. "That's all you have to say after telling me you consider all that flirting?"

"Um," Murdock said, looking up at the ceiling, and over to the door, and anywhere but at B.A.

 _Oh._ That was what was going on. "You could've said something," he said, stepping closer to Murdock.

"I was," Murdock said, still not looking at B.A.

"Something that a normal person would understand," B.A. amended.

"I never made Face pretend to be my boyfriend."

There clearly wasn't a 'for work' distinction in Murdock's head, so B.A. didn't bother pointing it out. "Smart, after how pissed he was last time he had to pretend to be gay."

"I never-" Murdock started again. Of course he was determined to prove that B.A. had just missed every obvious hint he made and not connected the dots, of course he was.

"Hey," B.A. said, interrupting him and waiting until Murdock looked at him before reaching out and wrapping a hand around the back of his neck to draw him closer.

Murdock caught on before their lips met and kissed him back hungrily, like he'd been waiting for this for years. Hell, for all B.A. knew, he had.

***

On Friday morning, B.A. woke up with Murdock sprawled across most of the bed, including the part B.A. was on. Out of some sort of curiosity, he went to poke Murdock's arm. Before he got anywhere near the arm Murdock had curled across his chest, Murdock grabbed his hand and pinned it to the bed.

"Five more minutes," he muttered against B.A.'s shoulder.

B.A. tried it with the other hand, but Murdock, now on top of him, pinned that and began licking his neck. "Or not."

THE END


End file.
